Wednesday, December 12, 2007

I hate finals. They create the worst week of the year as we students have to balance however many tests and papers, all to be completed within the short span of five days.

So I have this professor...we'll call her K. Carter. Actually, lets go with Karen C. She was a professor of mine last semester, and I enjoyed her class enough...I mean, she's not the smartest professor ever, but she's entertaining enough. On maybe the second or third class day last semester, I asked her if I could call her Karen (I refuse to call any professor any formal name-I usually give them some kind of nickname-Doc, Dawg, C-Dawg, or call them by their first name-like Bill). Karen is a younger professor, and I don't think she liked this at all. She quickly replied "No, I don't think so" and walked away. Dang. Well, I continued to call her Karen in my daily conversations, thinking one day I'd end up accidentally calling her Karen in the middle of class. Luckily, this never happened.

Turns out I had to take another class from her this semester. The Reformation in Europe. Exciting. Today was our last class and she said that we were her most favorite class ever (she said that last time too). After class I was shaking my TA's hand, expressing my sadness in the end of this class (it was fake), and I tried it again..."Dr. Carter-can I call you Karen?" Now, this semester has been a little rough compared to last semester...she's openly expressed her disappointment in my frequent conversations with other students, and has written on my papers that she wishes I would at least pretend to pay attention (which I totally do and can be proved by my grade)...but her response was surprising. "Sure Cindy, just not in class". I finally got to her. Lets just say my finals are already done...